


Door Number Two

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck, Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captchalogue Prompt: REVOLUTIONARY GIRL LALONDE. I need this crossover like burning, guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Door Number Two

The first and central problem was the blank stretch in her memory. When she thought about it, her head started to hurt. When she didn't think about it, she quickly forgot that it existed. Even gauging precisely how wide it was proved impossible with the migraines that accompanied any attempt to focus on the question. She had her childhood, and she had her thirteenth birthday, but after that she wasn't certain.

One thing she did know that the gap encompassed was her admission to Skaia Academy. It made perfect sense that her mother would send her abroad to an elite school with fencing clubs and dormitories and far more marble arches than were in any way necessary, so at first she hadn't thought to question it. It made considerably less sense that Dave, Jade, and John would be there with her, and that was what got her attention. As best as she could conclude, her earliest memory in this setting was of a wizened faculty member shrieking at her for wearing a purple uniform instead of the mandated and intolerably gaudy goldfish-orange, along with a vague and, upon reflection, probably inaccurate sense that it had happened dozens of times before.

Her second memory, and a much more distinct one, was of John giving her the ring.

"It came in the mail by mistake, I think," had been how he explained it. "There was this letter that made it sound like it was part of some sort of LARPing game, but I hadn't signed up for anything like that. It was all in-character and I didn't understand much of it. The only address was, 'To he who would claim the prize,' so even if it was meant for someone else I wouldn't know how to find him. And, well, it's a nice ring, and I'm not going to wear it, and it has a rose on it, and your name is Rose, so I thought you might want it." With the most sugary smile she could stomach, she had thanked him and promised to wear it every day.

Rose had followed through on that promise, though John didn't seem at all flustered by it, nor had he yet to escalate. It occurred to her he might not have fully understood how this game worked and didn't realize that the ball was already back in his court. When she first stumbled upon the conservatory rose garden, she was so caught up in contemplating how to be less subtle without pushing too hard too early and winding up with an endgame where the only options were to fold or marry him ironically that she almost didn't notice the problem with what she was looking at. It hit her eventually, though, and when it did, it knocked all other thoughts out of her head with the force of its sheer baffling absurdity.

"Who in the world keeps cloth flowers in a greenhouse?" she wondered aloud.

"The real ones refuse to grow for me." Rose looked down to see a troll girl with short hair and a crooked horn sitting with her back against the glass and working a needle and thread over colorful silk. "It's terribly vexing. I know I'm not an incapable gardener; they are just being obstinate."

"Roses are known for their willfulness," she commiserated with a small, dry smile. "Still, that's an interesting solution you have there. You can get more colors that way, I suppose, but what you gain in hue you lose in fragrance."

"A liberal application of perfume can assuage that concern."

"You're joking."

"Go inside and see for yourself," the textile florist told her, then quickly amended, "or scent for yourself."

Rose attempted to do just that, but as she reached for the door the troll girl got a look at her hand and suddenly jumped to her feet, scattering stitchwork on the grass. "Rose, you aren't in the dueling game, are you?" she exclaimed.

"What dueling game?" Rose asked. "And how do you know my name?"

The troll girl, visibly relieved, instantly collected her composure. "Everyone in our grade does. You're known for your  
willfulness." Still ignoring the first question, she added, "Mine is Kanaya. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rose opened her mouth to press the issue, but was interrupted by a shout of, "Kan!" and a tall-coiffered troll boy sweeping past her with such force he nearly knocked her over. "What the hell are you doin' out here?" he demanded of Kanaya. "You're supposed to stick with me, aren't you?"

"Just tending the garden, Lord Eridan," said Kanaya, and Rose had to wonder what unfortunate entity this boy could possibly be lord of. The dance, maybe. "As is my other obligation as the Rose Bride." Then, with a coy smile, she added, "There's nothing fishy going on here, no need to be crabby."

Eridan slapped her, and she collapsed sprawled on the ground.

Rose had spent enough time around John to be able to tell a pratfall from a real one, and in any case Kanaya's was not particularly convincing. It seemed to convince Eridan, though. "Oh fuck, Kan!" he gasped, and all but dove to help her up. "I didn't mean it, really I didn't. Don't fuckin' know my own strength, I suppose. Please don't break up with me."

"You don't ever have to worry about me breaking up with you," Kanaya assured him, already smiling again. "I belong to you, remember?"

"I see," said Rose, suppressing the urge to shoulder him out of the way and help Kanaya herself. "So it's considered acceptable for a troll to hit his matesprit — as long as it isn't too hard. Pardon my cultural insensitivity, but I was under the impression that was more the domain of blackrom."

"She's not my matesprit, I'm fuckin' engaged to her," Eridan snapped. "Who the hell are you?"

"Rose Lalonde, third year middle school. Please excuse my ignorance, I'd never heard of trolls getting married."

"Eridan Ampora, but you probably knew that already, seeing as how I'm the fuckin' student council president."

"Vice president," Kanaya corrected him.

"No, I've got the highest blood of anyone on the council, so I'm the president. I don't care what anyone else says." He turned back to Rose. "And of course we don't get married, that's a stupid human thing. Kanaya is the Rose Bride, and I'm the Victor, which means she has to do what I say. So I can hit her if I want to, it's none of your business unless you want to challenge me and take her for yourself."

"Challenge you at what?"

"A duel in the forest arena. You've got the ring, so you must have gotten the letter. You should already know how it works."

Rose looked at Kanaya. "Suppose the Victor were to tell the Rose Bride to explain what precisely, to the best of her knowledge, is going on at this school. Would she comply with that?"

"Sure, why not?" said Eridan. "That's a really weird order, though."

"I wasn't asking you."

"The Rose Bride must acquiesce to the behest of the Victor," said Kanaya carefully. She appeared determined to keep her voice and face blank, but Rose thought she could detect in them a hint of concern, or possibly even worry. "That is the rule."

She was talking around something, that much was clear. Rose didn't know what and she didn't know how much information this strange girl might have to offer in the first place, but she did know she could not simply stand aside and let a mystery of this caliber go unexplored. "All right then, Mr. Vice President," she said, "consider the gauntlet tossed."


End file.
